


Unfortunately, Jannequinard

by Beetle Brownleaf (monsterlover)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Humor, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:55:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29396583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterlover/pseuds/Beetle%20Brownleaf
Summary: I just felt like "F!WoL has the best sex of her life... with, unfortunately, Jannequinard" was a fic that needed to exist. And she's retelling it all to Aymeric because I like the idea of WoL and Aymeric being BFFs, and he would also be the most familiar with the infamous member of House Durendaire.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel & Warrior of Light, Jannequinard/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 53





	Unfortunately, Jannequinard

The Warrior sighed as she sat down with her mug. 

"So, what is this you were saying about a new lover?" Aymeric said, looking into his own cup.

She made an audible groan and took a deep drink.

"Gods. I don't know what to do," she said.

"Ahh, let me guess: a singular encounter?"

She spoke from beneath her hands over her face.

"Yes."

"Well, with who?"

She muttered a name quietly. His brow furrowed and he tilted his head.

"I… I did not catch that."

She mumbled only slightly louder.

"Friend, I’m afraid you’re going to have to speak up--"

Her hands ripped away from her face, and she said the name with complete and utter defeat.

"JANNEQUINARD."

Aymeric blinked, brows raised.

"...The astrologian? Of House Durendaire, no less?" he said, "Well. That certainly is… _well_."

"It was awful," she groaned.

"Really? I was under the impression that he was rather… skilled… in that department."

"No, no, it was _amazing_ , that's what's so awful!"

She gave dry sobs, raking her fingers through her hair.

"...I'm not…? I do not follow."

"The man is an _idiot_. A fool. A complete buffoon. An infuriating contraction of every kind," she said, sighing, "and quite possibly the best lay I have ever had."

Aymeric smiled, noting the Warrior's flush.

"And now you have feelings for him?"

Her face scrunched up in anger.

" _No_ ," she insisted, then gave a miserable whine, her head on the table, "...Maybe. Just a tad. Oh gods. It's awful."

She sighed, lifting her head up.

"The next day he winked at me at the markets, and I giggled like a little girl. I couldn't help it. I hate it. I hate _him_. I hate his very existence!"

She whined again.

“...And I want to call on him again.”

"Well goodness, just how good was it?"

She rested her head on her hand, turning it all over in her mind before recounting the night in question.

* * *

He had that insufferable smirk the whole time she undressed. Three pints in, bored, and seven months without a single lay: the recipe for this improbable night. With _Jannequinard_ , of all people.

“Your breasts are splendid, if I say so myself,” he complimented, “But my, how sore they look! They could use a good massage. May I?”

The Warrior snorted and rolled her eyes. Clearly an attempt to get his hands on a nice set, but she did not deny that were, in fact, sore.

“I guess,” she said, “Yeah, fine. Go ahead.”

He grinned, undressing - whoa, whoa, wait a minute, that was _quite_ a bulge there, wasn’t it? She had heard rumors, but to actually see it, even through an outline in his knickers… well. She tried not to look as impressed as she was. 

Gods, and his body - she had seen few men quite so toned… he was already exceeding so many of her expectations. Not that she had expected much, anyways.

He smiled, taking his place behind her. His breath on the back of her neck made her shiver, and she jumped as she felt him at her ear.

“Forgive me if my hands are cold,” he said, with a surprising tenderness.

They were a bit, but it was soothing against her aching bust. 

“Mm, my, so full,” he said, “tell me - harder, softer?”

“That… that’s fine, what you’re doing there,” she said, growing nervous, much her own surprise.

He kneaded them in his slender fingers, and she easily relaxed against him, her head lolling back. At the very moment the tender flesh was exposed, he took his lips to it, eliciting a gasping laugh from her.

“Alright?” he asked.

“Yes, I… I’m just a little sensitive there,” she replied, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Oh my. Then we must be oh so gentle with it, then, mm?”

He kneaded a bit more firmly, and his lips caressed the skin with a tenderness that, once again, surprised her.

“Oh, the salt of your skin is delightful,” he whispered, “I could taste of you forever.”

Her face flushed hot, head spinning. That was… incredibly sensual. Romantic, even. He continued to kiss and caress and knead, his lips eventually making their way to the sensitive shell of her ear.

“Feel good?” he asked, and she nodded, too relaxed to answer verbally.

He gave a gentle hum of a laugh, snaking a hand down between her legs.

“And how about this?”

She suddenly gasped, her head lurching forward. 

“Ah, there we go,” he said, almost as if taunting her with how easily he found her clit. How the hells _did_ he find so well?

He circled it expertly, with the perfect amount of pressure, so much so that she already found herself so close… mm, so close--!

“Oh, fuck, fuck, I--ah!”

He had nipped at her earlobe gently.

“My, such filthy language,” he teased, deftly taking his other hand to the stiff peak of her breast.

“Jan-Jannequinard, I’m going to--”

And suddenly, to her complete shock, she had cum right that moment - hard, wet, instantly soaking the bed. 

“Oh my gods, my gods!” she gasped.

“ _Yes_ ,” he growled in her ear, “Let the gods hear how good I make you feel.”

Her head was reeling. Who the hells was this man?! She yelped as his fingers were now plunged within her, the other hand now replacing the other at her clit. His fingers curled within her, and he gave a laugh - fuck, his voice was _delicious_ \- and rubbed the soft inside firmly, his movements within sychronised perfectly with the movements without.

“Oh fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ” she sobbed, her legs shaking.

“Naughty girl, such a filthy mouth,” he said, “I ought to silence you.”

The line would have probably made her roll her eyes, had he not been driving her utterly mad with pleasure. He kissed her open, panting mouth, tongue sliding against hers with such ease, as if they’d been lovers for years.

“Mm,” he hummed against her, drawing her tongue his mouth and sucking on it gently. Her moans were stifled, eyes rolling back as she-- oh my gods, again?!

Yes, _again_ \- she was cumming again, releasing even more of her own fluids onto his sheets, her whines of pleasure mangled beneath his lips. He stopped, smiling wickedly, and in a moment he had her pushed on her back. Ah, figures. Foreplay was over-- no, no, he was down below her, lifting her thighs up over his shoulders, diving between them, and--

“Ohh,” she moaned, as his tongue swirled around her clit. He was gentle, but relentless, his tongue exploring everywhere with such a messy fervor; he seemed to enjoy getting, well, dirty.

“You taste wonderful,” he said, voice deep and low with arousal. He back arched, and she wondered again who the _hells_ this man was. 

Her eyes went wide - he had found a very, very good place, and was lapping at it furiously. She could feel herself grow close again, and she grabbed a pillow to stifle her voice.

“Ah, ah,” he said, suddenly taking it from her and tossing it away, “I want to hear you, dear thing.”

The pet name put her off for only a moment, for he had returned to his place and was lapping at her just as he had been before.

“Oh gods, oh gods!” she cried, chest heaving.

She felt the heat pool in her belly, and then his fingers entered her once more, curling so perfectly once again, pumping in time with his strokes, and--

_“Jannequinard!”_

She screamed out into the night, arms splayed out and gripping the sheets. He was covered with her slick, but he cared not - in fact, he seemed to like it. She began to flail from the sheer pleasure, and he gripped around her thighs, holding her in place as he lapped like a man parched. 

She could not count how many times she had came by the time he rose above her, messily wiping at his face with his arm, his own chest now heaving.

“Much as I have enjoyed tasting of you, I simply must have you in earnest,” he said, his knickers untied and pulled off. 

The delirious Warrior looked down, eyes wide; it was even better than she had thought.

“Please do stop me if I hurt you in any way,” he said, to which the Warrior weakly nodded.

He slowly sunk in, and instantly she was throwing her head back, moaning.

“Oh gods. Fuck me. Fuck me, please!” she begged, his girth filling her so perfectly that it only made her core ache for more. He laughed.

“As you wish, dear thing,” he said, hissing, “Ohh, you feel so _perfect…_ ” 

He began to thrust, a little slowly, attempting to savor it.

“So perfect, dear thing - it is as if you were made for me.”

Again, such words might have made her scoff before, but he spoke true; they seemed to fit perfectly together, and it felt incredible. His cock slid in and out, and she moaned loud. She shook, almost violently, as his cock repeatedly slammed against her most sensitive places within. She grew close to her peak, throwing her head back as it approached.

“Ah, ah,” he said, stopping, “Look at me, dear thing. Or I shan’t continue.”

She whined, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him.

“Mm, there you are,” he said, taking one of her legs and throwing it over his shoulder, “So beautiful.”

This time it was her turn to hear his moans of pleasure, and by gods he sounded so arousing; his voice, deep and low, broken groans and sighs escaping his throat. 

“You feel so _good_ ,” he sighed, “Ohh, I can’t wait to fill you with my seed.”

He reached out a hand, opening her mouth, putting his thumb momentarily against her tongue.

“Is that what you want?” he toyed, “Do you want me to fill you up inside?”

The Warrior’s head bobbed lazily up and down as he continued, and she moaned shrill and high.

“Oh! Harder,” she begged.

“Demanding, aren’t we?” he said, “Hah. You know not what you ask for.”

He gave a wicked laugh as his hips snapped quickly against her, making her cry out with pleasure. He kept the pace expertly, with seemingly no effort. His eyes bore into hers, that insufferably smug look on his face. He was making her feel amazing, and he knew it, the _bastard_.

The sounds their joining made were absolutely obscene, and it only aroused her more. Hard and fast and wet - oh gods how was she so wet?

He took a thumb to her clit, and she was _gone_ \- screaming, shuddering, struggling to keep eye contact with him, sweat rolling down her face.

“Mm, tell me, dear thing - whose cock is fucking you?”

“J-Jannequinard,” she hissed, with a rather uncharacteristic obedience. 

“Who is making you feel good, dear thing?” 

“Jannequinard,” she whispered, eyes rolling back as the heat pooled in her belly once more.

“I didn’t catch that,” he teased.

“Jannequinard!” she cried, voice strained.

He moaned, rubbing her faster, and she shook with the first waves of orgasm.

“Who is making you cum?”

“Jannequin--”

He orgasm came in full force, and she shouted, full throated, head thrown all the way back.

“Jannequinard! Oh, gods, _Jannequinard!_ ”

He slowed for a moment, smiling, and pushed her onto her back. He bent her legs back, her knees at her sides, and kissed her as he pounded back inside her furiously. 

For gods-know-how-long she moaned and screamed, losing count of how many times she’d cum.

“Whose cum do you want inside you?” he hissed, his pace as furious as ever. 

The Warrior, weak and limp from the onslaught of pleasure, looked up at him, moaning his name again.

“Jannequinard…” 

And he was moaning - _loud_ \- spilling inside her, his last few thrusts hard and pointedly deep, and she laid back, her breathing steady and soft as he settled in next to her.

“My… quite a romp, wouldn’t you say, dear thing?”

She nodded slowly, her eyes drifting closed as he pulled her into his arms.

* * *

“...Well.”

The Warrior had her head in her hands, groaning miserably.

“I know.”

“I… well.”

_“I know.”_

“I had heard he was… popular… but… _well._ ”

Aymeric took a long swig, blinking.

“He even had breakfast made for me,” she said, “His servants are… used to being discreet about his… escapades. It was so wonderful.”

She growled in frustration.

“I’m so _angry._ I hate him. _I hate him!_ ”

She gave a loud groan, running her hands down her face, burying herself in them, shaking her head.

“But I want to marry him and bear his children.”

Aymeric could not help but give a long sigh of a laugh.

“And what a fantastic addition you shall be to House Durendaire.”

She merely gave a weak, heaving sob.


End file.
